Five Things That Never Happened To J
by dollsom
Summary: It seems that a pretty good way of determining if you’re going to die on the Hellmouth is to check whether or not your name starts with “J”. Four characters whose names start with “J”, five things that might have happened to each of them.
1. Jesse

_Rating_: PG. There's just a bit of innuendo and kissing, no sex or violence.  
_Ships_: VampJesse/VampWillow; Jesse/Willow, Jesse/Teresa, Jesse/Faith friendship, Giles/Jenny; Drusilla/VampJonathan, Jonathan/Amanda. Various cannon ships are mentioned too.  
_Disclaimer_: I'm just playing with Joss' battered, discarded toys, they don't actually belong to me. Except for Ani, she's mine. _Description_: It seems that a pretty good way of determining if you're going to die on the Hellmouth is to check whether or not your name starts with "J". If it does, you're out of luck. Four characters whose names start with "J", five things that might have happened to each of them had things gone differently.  
_Author's note_: The way this works is that I tried to focus the scenes around things that might have happened had the characters (Jesse, Jenny, Joyce and Jonathan)not died, with the constraints that each has a vampire scene, a post-"The Gift" scene, and at least oneseason 7 scene.

**Five things that never happened to J.**

**Chapter 1: Jesse**

_1. One Night in the Wishverse_

Ironically enough, Jesse had never felt so alive. Power coursed through his veins; and everything was more clear and vivid, more real, more vital. Especially the redhead walking next to him down the darkened city street. He had never known Willow to be more appealing, more… sexy. Jesse almost didn't want to find Xander that night. Then they wouldn't turn him, and he could have Willow all to himself. But they were best friends, and they would always stick together, even after death.

But for now, at least, he had Willow's undivided attention. He turned to her and smiled darkly. She noticed, and didn't so much smile back as give him a look that somehow managed to communicate both warmth and favour, and the most amazing darkness and evil.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked him.

"You," Jesse answered with a lascivious grin.

"Look at a girl like that, and she'll think your thoughts are not entirely chaste." Willow's lips curled up wickedly. "Anyways, Darla would get jealous."

Jesse scoffed. "She doesn't care about me. I'm just a toy to her."

Willow raised an eyebrow sceptically. "I don't see what you're complaining about, I sure wouldn't mind being Darla's plaything."

Apparently, Jesse didn't share this point of view. "It's just that she treats me like a kid," he complained.

"Well, you kinda _are_ a kid."

"But I feel like so much more."

"I know!" Willow's eyes seemed to glow with excitement. "It's a new world, that we never even knew existed before, and now suddenly it's arisen, or arose, or something, but the point is that we're right in the thick of it: the chaos, the mayhem, the terror-"

Jesse stepped in front of her, bringing his companion's ramblings to a halt. "You know how sexy you are when you do that?"

She smiled mischievously back. "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

"I think I have an idea or two."

Jesse leaned in towards the other vampire. Suddenly, his eyes widened in shock as he felt something plunge through his heart. Willow watched in horror as her friend turned to dust and crumbled to the ground. Xander stood behind the fresh pile of dust, relief clearly displayed on his face.

"Willow!" He was breathing heavily, as if he had just run several blocks. "Thank God you're alright. I saw you from…" He pointed vaguely to somewhere behind himself. "These past few days… Jesse…" Xander's eyes drifted down to the pile of dust at his feet, now being dispersed by the wind. He did not notice Willow's face change, or what was happening, until she was upon him and it was too late.

* * *

_2. Blame Xander_

Jesse found Willow in the stacks, leaning against a shelf, arms crossed, staring blankly. She sighed as he approached her.

"Hey," he said, but his friend didn't reply. "Look, if you're finished re-shelving, Cordelia'll drive us home." His voice was level and hollow sounding.

Willow scoffed. "I think I'd rather walk."

"Haven't you had enough of being attacked by vampires for one night?" Jesse asked, with a note of concern in his voice.

"If it's between that and riding in the same car with Cordelia…" Willow started, bitterly, stopping when she saw Jesse regarding her with uncharacteristically unguarded sympathy.

"It's weird, huh?" he said softly.

"More than weird. It's scary." Willow said emphatically.

Jesse looked uncertain. "I'm talking about Xander and Cordelia here, not Angel."

"So am I."

"Oh."

Willow's look softened. "How long have you known?"

"A week or two. Ever since my trip to the janitor's closet after that little accident in biology class."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Xander kinda begged me not to."

Willow scoffed again. "That's no excuse." Jesse merely shrugged half-heartedly in reply, so she went on. "We're best friends, Jesse, we shouldn't keep things from each other, especially when the thing is our other best friend sucking face with the resident super-bitch! _Especially_ not when I – I…" Willow's bottom lip started to quiver, and she stopped her tirade, determined not to cry. She glanced over to Jesse, who appeared to be studying his sneakers with avid interest. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I forgot that you like her."

Jesse looked up with a forced smile. "Pfft." He waved his hand dismissively. "Hardly. Cordelia was just a fling to pass the time. Except, y'know, without there actually being a fling." Willow just kept looking at her friend kindly. Jesse sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. He stared at the spines of the books without reading the titles. "So maybe I feel a little betrayed. I mean, I understand that some people let their hormones get the better of them once in a while. On the other hand, some people let their hormones govern their every waking move. I get that. It's just… it's not fair."

"Jesse…"

"Way to sound like a three-year-old, I know."

Willow let a slight smile grace her features. "Well, I'm kinda ready to join the preschool class myself." Jesse returned the smile, but it soon faded from the redhead's face. "Jesse, when are things gonna go right for us?"

Jesse looked like he wasn't sure what his friend was talking about, and indeed, he didn't. "Well, um…" He settled on a date-centric interpretation. "You're giving up on Oz a little early, aren't you?"

"No I'm not." Willow sighed. "But it's like, as soon as something is coming together, something else is falling apart. I just wish we could all be happy, y'know?"

Jesse nodded, understanding her meaning. "I blame Xander," he said simply.

Willow looked incredulous. "That can only go so far."

Jesse shook his head. "No, he jinxed us, remember? 'We're doomed' were his very words."

"Hey, that's right." Willow looked indignant now.

"Hence, I blame Xander for everything."

"Stupid Xander."

Willow caught Jesse's eye and they started laughing. It suddenly struck Jesse that Willow really was beautiful when she laughed. Then the laughter and the thinking Willow was beautiful suddenly seemed inappropriate, given the circumstances, and he stopped.

"He doesn't know what he's missing." Jesse said sincerely. Willow blinked and cocked her head like a confused puppy, which was just as cute as her laughing, and her lips were slightly parted in a wondering expression, and they looked so pretty…

"What's taking you guys so long?" Cordelia demanded as she stalked through the stacks. "I'm being all generous, the least you could do is not make me wait." She stared at the pair of friends expectantly.

* * *

_3. Bad Boy _

He was a wolf, on the prowl. Not in the Oz sense, of course. In the sense that he was alone at the Bronze, since Buffy and Faith had been missing in action lately, and Xander and Willow were being all mopey about it, and Teresa still hadn't succumbed to his winning charm and agreed to go out with him yet. But that was okay. Jesse had no problem being a lone wolf, he was cruising, he was checking out the babes, he was –

"Faith!"

Relieved to finally find someone he knew, Jesse pushed though the crush on the dance floor – which, he thought in passing, was oddly heavy on Y-chromosomes – until he was dancing in front of Faith. The other dancers glared, but Jesse wasn't paying attention. Faith was swaying to the music, eyes closed, completely lost in the rhythm. Her eyelids parted slightly and she caught sight of her dancing partner.

"Jesse!" If he hadn't known better, Jesse might have thought that she wasn't exactly overcome with joy at the sight of him.

"Faith!" he replied with a wide grin.

"What d'you think you're doin'?"

Jesse shrugged mid-shimmy. "Dancing?"

Faith raised an eyebrow at his interpretation of the word. "Yeah? Well, you're crampin' my style."

"You look kinda cramped to begin with," he replied, casting a glance at the dancers pressing in on the Slayer, who looked like she was considering being offended by his remark.

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"Just, if you've got cramps, maybe you need someone to help you relax." Jesse waggled his eyebrows significantly.

"You offerin'?" Faith asked with a bemused expression.

Jesse spread his arms magnanimously, as he continued to dance. "You know me, I love to help the ladies."

"I think it's your dancing that's in need of the help," Faith rejoined, and sauntered off the dance floor.

Never one to take a hint, especially not those issued by attractive brunettes, Jesse followed, ignoring the death glares of the abandoned boy-toys. "Yeah, well, maybe you can teach me," he said hopefully, if a little out of breath.

The Slayer looked exasperated as she headed towards the bar, and might have gotten the idea that she could scare her uninvited admirer off. "That's not all I could teach you," she said, fixing the boy with a predatory look. But Jesse persisted.

"Just call me thirsty for knowledge."

"I'm a real thirst quencher."

They reached the bar. "Would you like me to buy you a drink?" Jesse ventured.

"Aw, you wanna share a sody-pop?"

"I don't drink sody-pop." Jesse assumed an air of supreme coolness as he ordered two beers from the bartender, promptly changing the order to two Cokes when asked for ID.

Faith grinned. "Coulda fooled me. You seem like a _pop_ kinda guy."

If Jesse thought the conversation was approaching dangerous territory, he didn't show it. "Well, I pop in other ways."

"Mr. Jack-in-the-Box, huh? Hoping I'll turn your crank?"

"Faith, you've already got my head spinning."

"Keep on spinning like that and you'll… you'll…" Faith furrowed her brow, unable to come up with anything suggestive. "… get really dizzy…" Much to her chagrin, her drinking companion started laughing. "What're you laughin' at?"

"I won." Jesse said plainly.

"Excuse me?"

"The battle of the single-entendre, I won." Jesse smiled contentedly. "You have to admit, you were getting pretty lame near the end there."

It was as though Faith didn't know whether to be offended or amused. "Lame?"

"Yeah, I mean, were you even listening to what you were saying? Mr. Jack-in-the-Box?" Jesse laughed again. "I didn't know that you could be such a dork."

There was no question about it. Now Faith was offended. "And I suppose you think you're so suave."

Jesse just smiled. "Hey, at least when I'm being a dork, I realize it."

"Well, you're being a huge one now." Faith slammed her glass down on the bar, and stalked off in the direction of the pool tables, Jesse trailing close behind.

"I know, it's part of my irresistible dorky charm."

"Yeah? Watch me resistin'," Faith threw over her shoulder, and kept walking.

"Oh, c'mon, you're not gonna leave me alone out there, are you?" Jesse finally stopped his chase and shouted after Faith, "Fine! I don't need you! I've got enough party in me to have fun by myself! Check out these moves!" Almost as if by some morbid compulsion, Faith stopped in her tracks and turned to watch as he danced manically, mixing '80s break-dancing with modern rave moves, and something special that was all Jesse. Faith moved closer to him as she continued to stare incredulously. Then, almost in spite of herself, she started laughing. Smelling blood, Jesse's dancing became even more outrageous, until he collapsed against a pillar, out of breath. Faith was rather short of breath herself, only in her case it was because she was laughing so hard.

"Feeling… more relaxed?" Jesse asked in between gasps.

Faith composed herself. "Funnily enough, yeah."

"Good, then maybe you can help me with this cramp I gave myself." He massaged his shoulder and winced.

Faith sniggered. "Y'know, Jesse? For a big dork-head, you're alright."

* * *

_4. Driven Away _

Buffy was dead.

Jesse sped through the night, desert on either side of him, wind blowing through his hair. The vintage T-bird convertible that he had restored and suped-up himself the summer after high school felt like the only friend he had left. Of course, he still had Willow and Xander, but… things were different. They had been getting different for a while. To be fair, it wasn't them, it was the town. It was sucking the life out of all of them, and yet they stayed, to protect a place that wasn't even a speck on a map… that wasn't fair either. They were saving the world. But somehow, Jesse just didn't care anymore. He was angry at himself for not caring, but he couldn't force himself.

It had started with Faith. It was different for him than it was for the others. Jesse always thought that he was the only one who had really ever counted the Slayer as a friend, as much a friend as the rest of the Scoobies. She was the first the Hellmouth had taken from him. Not that she died, but she was lost nonetheless.

Then Teresa. He had saved her, and slowly won her over, until she wouldn't think of dancing with anyone else at the prom except Jesse. He supposed that she never really fit in with the Scoobies, but she was smart and kind, and had this quiet wit that surprised you with its sharpness, and she didn't find Jesse totally repulsive, and he loved her. She couldn't take life on the Hellmouth after her kid brother was killed. So she got out, and made a new life for herself, while Jesse stayed behind with his friends to fight the good fight. He wondered how she was doing.

The difference with the loss of Buffy was that she had actually died.

Jesse, Xander and Willow had been friends long before her arrival, but she was the one who made them the Scoobies. She led the crusade against evil, and there was something about her that made the fight seem worth the sacrifice. Now that she was gone…

Xander and Willow were going to stay, he could tell. Willow was more tied up in the supernatural stuff than he was, with her magic and her closeness to Giles, and to Dawn. They had already decided that she would move into the Summers' house to look after her. And of course Xander had loved, and still loved, Buffy in a way that Jesse never had. Buffy was his friend, but… he didn't want to die in some small town, away from the woman he loved.

Jesse drove faster. The further he got from Sunnydale, the less he felt the need to return.

* * *

_5. Friends Forever_

Jesse was glued to the TV, fascinated with the scene before him.

"What are you watching?" Teresa asked as she came to stand next to him. The local evening news was playing footage shot from a helicopter of deadlocked roads leading from a small town. It all seemed rather unremarkable, but for the caption, which read "Exodus: Sunnydale."

Jesse suddenly sprang from the couch and went to the bedroom.

"What's going on?" Teresa asked, not bothering to hide the worry in her voice.

"I don't know," came Jesse's muffled voice from the closet as he dug out his duffle bag. "Whatever it is, if the people of a town known for their ability to ignore things that go bump in the night are actually clued in this time…" He nodded to himself as if in confirmation. "It's bad." He opened a dresser drawer and started tossing in random articles of clothing. "And you can bet that Xander and Willow will be there fighting it."

"You're going back." Teresa's voice was all but flat, with a hint of accusation creeping in.

"I'm not packing for Honolulu." Jesse confirmed as he moved to the washroom to collect his personal affects.

"Why?" his girlfriend asked, in a tone that clearly expressed her sense of betrayal. "More to the point, why now? You left to avoid injury and death, why go back when you're most likely to get killed?"

Jesse emerged from the washroom, and set his bag on the floor. "That's not true." He approached Teresa and took her by surprise by kissing her deeply. Still holding her, he explained, "I left, because compared to what I can have with you, there's nothing left for me there." He fixed her eyes with his, as he searched for some sign of understanding. "But I still care about my friends. And if that means anything at all, then now's the time to show it."

Teresa looked at her boyfriend sadly, and spoke softly. "But what if they're already dead? For things to get this bad –"

"Then all the more reason for me to go." He smiled and tilted her chin up. "Hey, I love you. I can't keep away, remember? Like gum on your shoe, I'm stuck on you."

Jesse was rewarded with a laugh as Teresa remembered a Valentine's Day of years past. "That was the stupidest poem I've ever heard."

"But you loved it." He kissed her softly, and stepped away, reaching for his bag. "And it got the point across: I can't stay away from you for long, I'll always come back."

Teresa crossed her arms over her chest as the worried look returned to her face. "What if something happens to you?"

"I won't let it," Jesse replied as he hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. "And even if something did happen to me, knowing Sunnydale, I'd find some way or another to come back."

She hit him playfully. "Don't joke like that."

"Okay, okay." He gazed at her, searchingly. "I have to do this."

Teresa nodded. "And I can't go back. You understand, right?"

Jesse nodded in reply. He kissed Teresa one more time, and walked through the living room to the door of their apartment. He stopped in the doorway, and turned.

"I'll be back."


	2. Jenny

_Author's Note_: Two of the original five things in this chapter have been changed. "Thursdays" and "In Flight Conversation" have been changed to "Where To?" and "Family Issues". If you like the original two, or want to read them, they can be found on my website, which you can get to by clicking the homepage link in my profile.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Jenny**

_1. Here Lies Jennifer_

After what seemed like hours, Jenny finally broke through the earth, into the cool night air. She was annoyed, and being annoyed made her hungry. Who decided to bury her in Sunnyhell anyways? Couldn't they at least have had the courtesy to ship her body back to her family? Then, at least she wouldn't have had to dig herself out of six feet of wormy earth.

Jenny inspected her nails. Ruined. Natch.

It was probably the same schmuck who did such a half-assed job on her tombstone, she thought, glancing at it. No date of birth, no date of death, and…

"_Jennifer_?"

Her name was officially Janna. They could at least have used the anglicized form of Jenny. But she had never, _ever_ gone by the name of Jennifer.

"That's it, someone's going to bleed. Honestly, 'Jennifer'… ugh…"

* * *

_2. Where To?_

"This is ridiculous." Jenny tossed aside the issue of _Wired_ that she was reading, got to her feet, and began pacing across the the floor of the hotel room she was sharing with Joyce.

Joyce turned her attention away from the TV to watch her roomate with concern.

"I can't believe I let Rupert talk me into running away," Jenny went on.

"You can't really blame him for being worried," Joyce tried to sound soothing.

"Of course he can be worried. He's always worried. But... this isn't fair!"

"Maybe you should try to calm down."

"I am calm!" Jenny snapped.

"Look, if you don't relax you could induce labour."

"Well it wouldn't be my fault. I'm not the one who wanted to come here." Nonetheless, she flopped down into a chair. "I'm sick of this."

"We could order a movie," Joyce suggested.

"You know, after the thing with Angel ended, I thought, 'That's it! I'm in charge of my own life now!' But here I am again, other people deciding where I go and when." She paused. "I know it's not just me I have to worry about, but... I just thought it was over." She noticed Joyce watching her uncertainly. "Jeez, talk about emotional vomit. I didn't mean to spill all that on you."

"Hormonal overload will do that." Joyce smiled. "I've been there

Jenny smiled back, gratefully. The silence that followed wasn't quite awkward.

"It's hard," Joyce said finally, "Not knowing what they're doing."

"They'll be fine, they've done this before," Jenny said. "I just wish I could be there with them."

Joyce stared at the TV a moment longer before turning to Jenny again.

"I can't be in this room anymore. You want to go out somewhere?"

"Sure. Where to?"

* * *

_3. Family Issues_

Willow smiled as Jenny collapsed in the chair opposite her at the Espresso Pump, relief plain on her face.

"Sorry I'm late."

"'Sokay," Willow said, passing her the chai latte she'd ordered for her. "I imagine you had to stage some daring escape to make it here."

"Not really. I just had to tell Rupert how much I miss these get-togethers of ours."

"And he understood? That's sweet."

"Well, no," Jenny admitted. "Then he went on about how he's stuck at home with the baby all day, and wouldn't mind going out himself some time. At which point I asked him if he thinks I enjoy my mindless, soul-sucking job."

"Standard argument?"

"Version one-point-three." She sipped her coffee. "Then I told him that you'd promised to look after Anastasia on Friday evening, and he was all, 'be gone with you!'" Jenny was suddenly serious. "You will, won't you? I would've asked you first, but I was desperate."

Willow smiled reassuringly. "It's fine. I love hanging out with Ani. She's one cool baby."

"Thank you!" She exclaimed gratefully. "You don't know how much this means."

"You and Giles have a standard catalogue of fights. It's pretty clear you need some time off," the younger woman scooped some whipped cream off her mocha.

"I guess so..." Jenny took a thoughtful sip of her latte. "He's always so snippy by the time I get home. It's annoying, 'cause I know he likes being Mr. Mom, he just won't admit it because he's too British, or it's an affront to his masculinity, or something."

"Men," Willow scoffed.

"Mm hm, kinda makes you wonder why we bother."

"Actually..." the redhead fiddled with her spoon. "I don't."

Jenny blinked. "What?"

"Not anymore," Willow continued. "Not since... I-I haven't told anyone yet, but... well, you met Tara, right?"

"I think so... quiet girl, but she seemed pretty smart."

"Yeah."

"Hm," she nodded with approval. "Seems like your type."

"So, you're-you're okay with it?"

Jenny shrugged. "Of course."

"A-and I can still look after Ani?"

"Why couldn't you?" the older woman looked puzzled.

"I dunno, I guess... It's stupid."

"Willow..."

"I-I was kinda afraid that you wouldn't want a gay auntie Willow hanging around."

Jenny quirked an eyebrow. "You thought I'd be afraid you'd turn my daughter into a lesbian?"

"Eehyuh-huh."

"You're right. That is stupid." Willow looked abashed. Jenny reached across the table to place a reassuring hand on her arm. "You're like family now. I'd never want you not hanging around." Willow smiled. "And I'm sure the others feel the same way."

"Thanks."

Jenny smiled mischeviously. "Anyways, who else would I get to babysit Friday nights?"

* * *

_4. Far From Heaven_

Jenny tipped the cab driver, and turned to face the building she still thought of as home, not sure of what she would find inside, of how he would be so soon after…

It was difficult to gauge how he was feeling when they spoke on the phone. He sounded very… distant. He hadn't even argued when she said she and Ani were coming down and staying for the funeral.

Her hands too full to search for keys, Jenny knocked, shifting her sleeping daughter's weight to her hip as she did so. After what seemed like too long, he opened the door. He looked wretched: clothes wrinkled, messy hair, unshaven, eyes red. He had been drinking, she could tell. He looked absolutely heart broken, as if he had lost a child, or a Slayer.

Jenny was about to say something when her two-year-old daughter stirred and opened her dark eyes, squinting in the light spilling from the doorway. Upon seeing her father, she immediately reached out for him.

"Daddy!"

Giles took Anastasia from her mother's arms and hugged her tightly.

"We missed you," the girl said.

"I missed you too," Giles whispered to keep his voice from cracking.

"Daddy! I can't breathe!" Ani protested.

Giles immediately loosened his hold. "I'm sorry dear," he said, as if he could have done nothing worse than hug his daughter too tightly. He shifted her weight so he could look at her.

"Read to me?" she asked.

Giles was about to answer when Jenny broke in. "Daddy is too tired to read right now, honey," she said, taking back her daughter and going inside. "And it's time for you to go to sleep."

"I don't wanna go to sleep. I want Daddy to read to me."

"I know, but it's late." Jenny started up the stairs. "And don't you want to see your old room again?"

"It's too small, I like my new room more."

Anastasia's room was tiny, more of a walk-in closet than anything else. It still held her old crib and a stuffed animal or two. When they reached it, Jenny set her daughter on the floor and began to change her into her nightclothes.

"Why does Daddy smell funny?" Ani asked.

Jenny sighed at her daughter's inquisitiveness. "Because that's what happens when he's sad."

"He's sad 'cause of Buffy? 'Cause she died?"

"Yes, that's right," Jenny answered, somewhat preoccupied with getting a nightgown over Ani's head, trying not to get the buttons tangled in her curly hair.

"Did she know she'd make Daddy sad?"

Nightgown on, Jenny regarded her daughter seriously, and tried to answer her questions in as much an adult manner as possible. "Yes. Buffy loves – loved – your Daddy very much; as much as you do."

"Then why did she die?"

Jenny thought about how to answer. Should she explain the nature of death? How Buffy died? Should she try to shield her daughter? She knew that Ani was extraordinarily intelligent, but how much could she really understand about something like this?

"Mommy?"

"Because it was the only way to save the rest of us." She simplified.

The toddler thought this over. "But if she didn't, we would all be together in heaven, an' Daddy wouldn't be sad, an' we wouldn't hafta take the plane to see him."

Jenny smiled at her daughter. "But you still have so much living to do."She envelopedthe girlin a tight hug, lifted her off the ground and swung her around, and Ani squealed with delight before she was set down in her crib.

Ani smiled up at her mother. "I'm gonna be a Watcher when I grow up."

This was not the first time Jenny had heard this pronouncement, nor would it be the last. She smiled, somewhat sadly. "You think about what a good Watcher you'll be as you fall asleep, okay?" Ani nodded and lay down. "And remember that I love you."

"Love you too."

Jenny turned and started to leave when she heard her daughter, "Mommy?"

"Yes honey?"

"Buffy_ is_ in heaven, isn't she?"

Jenny didn't stop to consider her answer to this question, nor even to wonder how her daughter had developed such a biblical view of the afterlife. "Yes. She is."

She found Giles standing in the same spot where she had left him, at the foot of the stairs. He was leaning against the banister, staring into space. She touched his arm, and when he looked up at her, he seemed so very lost and alone. Jenny wrapped her arms around him. She wanted to tell him that everything would be alright, but she knew full well that it wouldn't be, so she said nothing. They stayed like that for a long time, Giles leaning into her, Jenny stroking the back of his head, thinking.

Part of her had known that this day would come eventually – Buffy would die in battle, and she would have to help Rupert cope with the loss, and from that point on he would be different; there would be a chasm in his life that neither she nor her daughter would be able to fill. She would have prepared for it, even planned what she would say and how she would act, if the part of her that knew what was coming had not been in constant argument with the part of her that insisted that Buffy would always be there, fighting the good fight.

It was the same voice that told her that she would always live in Sunnydale, gathering stories and experiences with which to astound her technopagan friends, proudly defying her family's demands that she follow Angel to Los Angeles, and having the Scoobies over for research and on holidays. That Ani would grow up there, aware of the danger but somehow immune to it, until it was time to go to England to start her Watcher training – because she would, of course, be a Watcher, just like her father, if something of an unconventional one. The same voice told her that their current living arrangements were only temporary, that the Seattle branch of the Magic Box, somewhat more tech-oriented than the original, was simply taking advantage of an opportunity for growth, and Jenny's cousin would be taking over soon, when she and Ani moved back to Sunnydale for good.

Jenny didn't bother to silence this voice. It wasn't the one she was worried about. There was a third part of her that she put all her effort into repressing. Right now it was angry at Buffy for dying, and for having such a strong hold on Rupert in the first place. He was in love with _her_, the father of _her_ child, yet his world still revolved around Buffy, even in death. This was the voice that Jenny tried to shut out as much as possible. It was bad enough to think that way in the first place, but to think ill of the dead…

The dead. Buffy was dead.

Every time the fact occurred to her over the past day, it was a shock, as it was now, when she pulled back from Giles.

"You could probably use some sleep too, y'know."

"I-I'd rather not. Don't much feel like it." His voice was soft and distant.

"Well, sit down. I'll make some tea."

He made a grateful expression that might have been considered a smile, and went to the couch.

On her way to the kitchen, Jenny noticed a bottle of scotch sitting on Giles' desk; she put it away without commenting on it. She had hoped that, knowing his daughter was coming, he wouldn't have started drinking. Then again, they usually drove down, so maybe he didn't expect to see them so soon. And if he wasn't drinking, he would have just worked himself into a giant ball of repression, so as not to worry them, or for some other ridiculous, British reason.

Jenny took the tea out to where Giles was sitting on the couch and sat next to him. He didn't drink, just gazed into the depths of his mug.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jenny ventured.

He took a sip of tea and set the mug down on the table, opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped, and stared at his hands instead. "Maybe later." He answered with an apologetic glance.

_Right. Repression it is, then._

Jenny moved towards him. She placed a hand on the back of his neck and drew him towards her, so that his head rested on her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew a long, shuddering breath. They stayed that way until morning.

* * *

_5. The Good Thing About The Apocalypse_

Bread. Mustard. Meat. Lettuce. Tomato. Mayo. Bread.

Repeat.

There were twenty potentials, two Slayers, a kid sister, a twice-ex-vengeance demon, a hostage-turned-cook who currently wasn't cooking, a carpenter, a witch, and a Watcher to feed. Twenty-eight. And herself. Twenty-nine. And Anastasia, but all she would eat lately was peanut butter and jelly.

Jenny had lost count of the sandwiches. She turned to Anya, who was slicing tomatoes. "How many are we at now?"

"Fourteen." She did not sound happy. Jenny would have asked what was wrong, but Anya supplied an answer first. "No other apocalypse required this much manual labour. Not to mention the servitude. Why can't these girls make their own lunch?"

"Can you imagine what this kitchen would look like after twenty hungry teenage girls have been through it?"

Anya shrugged dismissively. "It's not my kitchen." A pensive look crossed her face. "Actually, that would be a good way of getting back at Buffy for putting us on sandwich detail."

"Anya. Always with the vengeance," Xander remarked as he passed by on his way to the fridge.

The knife Anya was using must have been getting dull, because she was struggling to slice the latest tomato. She stabbed it violently, and tomato juice spurted out, all over her white shirt. "Ugh! I hate this apocalypse!"

Jenny's mouth twitched as she tried not to laugh.

Xander's voice sounded from the depths of the fridge. "Anya, since when has there ever been anything to _like_ about the end of the world?"

Anya considered this seriously for a moment before answering, "Well, pre-apocalypse sex is highly exhilarating."

Xander turned to Anya with a mixture of exasperation and horror. "Anya! Other people in the room!" He gestured towards Jenny.

"What? I'm not just talking about our sex, although it was very good. I'm sure everyone else has good pre-apocalypse sex as well." Anya turned towards Jenny for confirmation.

Taken aback, Jenny said nothing, but found herself looking back on all those "last times": half an hour stolen away from last-minute preparations or research, in Rupert's office at the school or at the store, against a wall or on top of a desk. Fear and desperation driving the need to feel alive, feel connected. And then all the times afterwards, having collapsed into bed after the initial we-saved-the-world high, waking up together, content and a little giddy, spending the next few hours oblivious to everything but each other.

"Am I right?" Anya asked, snapping Jenny out of her reverie.

"I have to agree with Anya on this one," she answered. "Although, personally, I prefer the post-apocalypse kind."

Anya turned to a slightly green Xander with a victorious smile. "There, see?"


	3. Joyce

**Chapter 3: Joyce**

_1. Maternal Instinct_

Joyce awoke on the kitchen floor with a headache and a kink in her neck. Buffy's school friend – what was her name? – Darla, was perched on the kitchen island, filing her nails, and apparently waiting.

"It's about time," Darla commented, in her abrasively sweet voice. "I was afraid that I drank too much, but I guess you older ones just need more sleep."

"The least you could have done was move me to the couch," Joyce said as she rolled her stiff shoulders

"Well, I was never one for grunt work."

Joyce glared. "What happened to me?"

"You feel it, don't you?" Darla grinned darkly. "The power… and the hunger."

"What am I?"

"A vampire, like me."

Joyce stared. A small part of her didn't want to believe the girl before her, but it was a very small part. Mostly, she knew it was true. She _did_ feel newly powerful, and an overwhelming freedom, to do what she wanted, and to _take_ what she wanted. But first, she still had questions. "Why me?"

Darla smiled again. Joyce was beginning to find her quite patronizing. "Because, my dear, you have some very… unique connections. Your daughter."

"Buffy? What about her?"

"Don't you know?"

Joyce stared at her sire blankly.

"She's the Slayer." Even though she didn't know what it meant, the word filled Joyce with a bone-chilling sense of dread. Darla continued her explanation, "Our sworn enemy, one girl chosen to rid the world of evil, a real little miss super hero." She gave the new vampire a moment to absorb the information. "Scary, huh?"

Joyce regarded Darla suspiciously. "That's why you made me? To kill…"

"You're catching on." Darla glanced out the kitchen window. "Come on, the sun will be up soon, and we don't want your darling daughter finding you in this condition, do we?"

"No…" Joyce replied distantly.

Darla started towards the door, but stopped when she realized that Joyce wasn't following. "Come along now, I've got big plans to see to."

Joyce nodded and went to join the older vampire.

As Darla opened the door to leave, she froze, an expression of shock plastered on her face. Joyce was gripping a wooden mixing spoon that she had plunged into her sire's back, and through her heart.

"No one lays a hand on my daughter," she growled in Darla's ear before she crumbled to dust. Joyce heard the front door open, and soft footstep in the hall. "Anyways, I've got plans of my own," she whispered to herself. She turned and started towards the hall.

"Buffy! What do you think you're doing, coming home at this time in the morning?"

* * *

_2. Denial_

Her doctors thought it was her new medications that caused Joyce's depression. They didn't associate her condition with the last visit of her daughter's friends, or the fact that she started to refuse their visits soon thereafter.

Dawn was the only non-medical professional Joyce would consent to see. Her daughter tried to tell her how the others were doing, but she wouldn't listen. By rights, they should have been killed as well. Why was Buffy the only one to have her life cut short? The only one to have her future robbed from her? The only one... one girl in all the world... chosen... That was how Mr. Giles always put it. If there was anyone who knew as well as Joyce how special her daughter had been, it was him. He was the one she hated the most, for making Buffy believe it.

Joyce felt that she should have died herself, before this could have happened. And it was bound to have happened sooner or later, it was fantasy to think otherwise. That's why she tried to convince Dawn to leave this town, so that she could escape the same fate her sister had met with. But she refused, she wanted to go on fighting. Joyce stopped talking to Dawn after that, although she still allowed her visits, which thereafter passed mostly in silence.

The time after the funeral was an exception. Dawn told her about the spot they chose, the service they put together, the headstone. Joyce listened in dull silence, staring at the radiator humming across the room.

What she resented most of all was that it was a secret. The grave was in a secluded spot in the forest at the edge of town, not in a cemetery. There wasn't a priest at the funeral, or even a memorial service at a funeral home that she could have attended. She couldn't even tell anyone that her daughter was dead. The only ones who knew what she was going through were those whom she thought of, however irrationally, as having stolen her daughter from her.

In some deep, hidden part of her mind, she knew that they were hurting too. When they came to see her, she saw the tears filling Willow's eyes; Xander's blank, hollow expression; the haunted look that Mr. Giles wore. But it didn't matter.

For all their sorrow and grief none of them could bring Buffy back.

* * *

_3. They Did_

Joyce straightened the blankets that covered her lap and patted her hair compulsively. She hoped she looked alright. She would hate to worry her daughter so soon after her return, who knew what she'd been through?

_The last thing Buffy needs is to worry about her invalid mother. She should just relax and spend some time with her friends, maybe go to the Bronze._

Willow had called to warn her. She didn't want to come over right away, fearing the sight of her once-dead daughter walking into her hospital room would be too much of a shock for Joyce. Then she put Buffy on the phone so Joyce could hear that she really was there. Joyce hadn't needed the proof, she was ready to believe. But it had been so good to her voice again. Buffy had sounded tired, of course, who wouldn't? But she was back, and that was all that mattered.

She heard footsteps in the hallway. Joyce straightened her posture, and smiled broadly in anticipation.

Willow entered the room first. She smiled warmly, and walked confidently, which was something of a surprise to Joyce. She had gotten used to seeing the young witch slouching in and out of her hospital room, ducking her head, fearing one of Joyce's outbursts. She had been so angry at her, all of Buffy's friends. But that had changed; when Willow called and told her what she'd done, Joyce would have reached through the phone to hug her if she could.

All thoughts of Willow disappeared, however, when Buffy stepped into view. She looked around the room like it was some sort of alien dreamscape, but when she saw her mother she gave a slight smile, with tears glistening in her eyes. To Joyce, it was as good as a 100 watt grin. She was seeing her daughter smile again.

Willow's gaze flicked between mother and daughter. "Well, I'll let you two get all caught up," she said gently, and left.

Joyce beamed at her daughter. "Welcome home, Buffy."

Buffy's smile faded, and she melted into tears.

* * *

_4. Regression_

Joyce waited in the darkened kitchen, determination keeping her from falling asleep where she sat. It was far past the time when she should have been in bed, but Joyce didn't care. She had to talk to Buffy tonight.

Willow murmured in her sleep in the next room. Joyce wasn't exactly sure why -- something had happened with Tara -- but her daughter's friend had spent the last few nights sleeping on the couch. Joyce knew just as much about that as she did about everything else that was going on lately, ever since she had come home from the hospital. Which was nearly nothing.

The back door opened, and Buffy slunk in, looking drawn and tired. But as bad as Buffy looked, Joyce felt much worse.

"Hello Buffy," she said cooly.

Buffy looked up, noticing her mother for the first time. "Mom. What are you doing up?" Joyce bristled at the worry in her daughter's tone. "Did you come downstairs on your own? You know you're not supposed to do that."

"I haven't seen you for a while, so I thought I'd wait up."

Buffy sighed wearily. "I'm sorry. I've been really busy. We can talk tomorrow, okay?" She sounded tired, and older than her years; in fact, she sounded like a mother addressing a difficult child, rather than the other way around. "Now, let's get you back to bed."

She moved to take her mother by the arm, but Joyce jerked away. "We're going to talk now," she insisted.

"Look, I'll make time tomorrow, okay?"

"No, it's not okay," Joyce said sharply. "You're hardly home anymore -"

"I've been busy," Buffy explained, trying to keep a level tone in her voice.

"No, you've been avoiding me," her daughter's jaw dropped in surprise at the accusation. Joyce continued, "I know what it takes to run a household, and I know when you're just making excuses to get away."

Shocked and insulted, Buffy was losing her patience. "How can you say that? You have no idea what I do -"

"How can I?" Joyce cut in. "When I'm stuck upstairs all day like some dirty family secret?"

"We are trying to look after you!" Buffy protested, the volume of her voice rising.

"Well, maybe I don't want to be looked after," her mother countered, sounding for all the world like an affronted adolescent.

Buffy took a moment to regain her composure. "No one wants you to be sick, mom." She tried to sound soothing, but Joyce only felt patronized.

"I'm not a child, Buffy!" She was almost yelling. Willow snorted in her sleep in the next room. "I'm sick and tired of being shut out! This is still my house, and you're still my daughter. I have a right to know what's going on in your life, and in Dawn's, instead of having everyone tiptoe around me, like I'll drop dead at the first sign of bad news."

"Mom -"

"I'm not brain-dead, Buffy! I know something isn't right!"

"It's nothing." Buffy sounded very restrained. "Nothing worth worrying about, anyways. Not in your condition."

"F-ck my condition!" Joyce slammed her hand on the counter, and her daughter stared. "I am _not_ my condition! I'm not some walking tumour! I'm your mother! I... oh..."

Joyce hung on to the kitchen island as the room spun around her. She closed her eyes to keeping the dizzying image from making her nauseous. Buffy was at her side in a second, holding her around the shoulders.

"Mom? Mom, are you okay?"

"Buffy... ?" Her voice was weak and frightened, like a child waking from a nightmare alone in a darkened room.

"I'm here, Mom. I'm here."

* * *

_5. Soldiers_

Joyce double checked that she had everything before she left the house. Keys, grocery list, wallet. Though she had recovered from her illness, she was still prone to forgetting, and it was embarrassing to be in line at the store with seven-hundred dollars worth of groceries, only to realize that you'd left all your money at home.

"Is there anything else you need?" she asked Buffy, who was sorting through her weapons chest.

"I dunno, does Wal-Mart sell evil-defeating weaponry?" Joyce gave her daughter a look that said she was humouring her. "Guess not then"

Joyce was about to leave when she turned to Buffy again. "Hey, maybe I should rent some movies, and we could have a video night. Y'know, give the girls a chance to relax." Buffy raised her eyebrows at her mother, who continued with her train of thought. "I've been wanting to see _The Hours_, but that might be a bit too serious. I should probably stick to lighter stuff, like _My Big Fat Greek Wedding_ or _Scooby-Doo_."

"Um... Mom?"

"Yes?"

"We're living under constant threat from the First Evil here. We have a major battle looming. I don't think videos are the order of the day."

"Oh." Joyce's face fell. "Well, it's up to you." She put her hand on the doornob, but once again turned to her daughter.

"I know they're your soldiers, Buffy." Buffy glanced up from her weapons as her mother addressed her, choosing her words carefully. "But they're girls too. It might be nice if someone remembered that. You used to think that way," she added softly.

Buffy blinked. "Okay."She shrugged."So rent some movies." She picked up a longsword and started polishing it.

Joyce studdied her daughter with concern, before sighing and heading out the door.


	4. Jonathan

**Chapter 4: Jonathan**

_1. Tribute_

Jonathan added raven feathers to the simmering brew before him, and heard Drusilla sigh.

"I can feel the darkness coming, like a cat. It's purring."

The new vampire smiled. "It's the perfect pet for you. I hope you like it," he said, while keeping the desperate eagerness he was feeling from rising in his voice. Drusilla was his mentor, his priestess, and his love. She believed that Jonathan was the only one who could conceive of designs as grand as her own. She told him so when she sired him. And Jonathan was determined to meet and exceed her expectations, to demonstrate his undying devotion to her, and to do so as spectacularly as possible.

She stroked his hair fondly. "Oh yes, darling. It's the loveliest gift anyone's ever given me."

"Even Spi-"

"Hush!" Drusilla cut him off angrily. "His name is poison! It will burn away the happiness of our new family."

"Of course," he said nervously. He should have known not to mention that name. Spike was a sore spot for Drusilla, ever since he had tried to stake her. Jonathan was confident that he would prove to be a better partner to Drusilla, more loyal, more adoring.

Jonathan recited a short incantation. Drusilla giggled.

"The sun lays down its sleepy head…" she half-sang.

"Never to rise again." Jonathan rose from his kneeling position and turned to his sire, triumphant. "My tribute to you," he spread his arms wide, "the Hellmouth in eternal darkness, to be reigned over by you in your glory."

Drusilla clapped her hands in delight.

* * *

_2. This Is The Way The World Ends_

_It's the end of the world._

Jonathan was sure he'd failed his last exam. Stupid medieval history. He was a computer science student, how's he supposed to do well in a history course? Stupid distribution requirement. Even the TA had recognized how ridiculously hard the exam was, and had given the class an extra half-hour to finish, which Jonathan had needed. Even though it probably hadn't made any difference in the end. The extra half hour _did_ mean that he would be late for his job at the Wireless Hut, would probably be fired as a result, and then be kicked out of his mom's basement because he wouldn't be able to make rent. Jonathan could just imagine how Warren and Andrew would laugh at him for that, being evicted from his own parents' house. They'd be laughing all summer, while Jonathan would be trudging to classes to make up his required humanities credit. That is, if he could afford the class now that he would be jobless. It was all he could do to keep from crying out at the injustice of it all.

A gleam of blonde caught Jonathan's eye, rousing him from his gloom. Ashley, a girl from his programming course, was perched on the ledge underneath an archway, talking to a friend, and looking like a dream. Jonathan straightened his posture and tried to assume a cool demeanor as he walked by, while checking surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye to see if Ashley noticed him. As a result, he didn't see the redhead coming towards him until he had collided with her.

At that moment, Jonathan definitely could have died. He glanced at the archway, and didn't know which was worse: that he had fallen flat on his face in front of the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, or the fact that, even then, she hadn't noticed him at all.

Then Jonathan saw who he was on the floor with.

"Oh, hi Willow." He began to gather his scattered study notes from the ground. Not that they would do him any good now. "I'm sorry." He retrieved one of Willow's texts from where it had landed several feet away.

Willow sat on the floor in a daze, and took several moments to recognize him. _No surprise there. Why would anyone remember me?_ "Jonathan…" she said with a faint smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Hi. How've you been?"

"Ugh, don't ask." He brushed floor grime off his knees as he got to his feet.

"Not so good, huh? That's too bad…" said Willow, with what appeared to be genuine regret. In fact, the news seemed to make her quite pensive; as she continued to sit on the ground, her eyes grew distant and she stared into space.

Jonathan stared. "Uh, Willow? Are you okay?"

"Huh?" She glanced up at him as she came out of her reverie. "No, I-I'm good…" She got slowly to her feet. "It's just… I wish you could be happy." Jonathan blinked, taken aback at her sincerity. "'Cause, y'know, someone in this town should be." Were those tears in her eyes? "I'd bet Buffy would want you to be happy too, since she saved your life that time…" That distant look reappeared.

"Uh huh…" Jonathan nodded, confused. He was torn between wanting to get to his job as fast as possible, and helping Willow with whatever was wrong. He liked the redhead, and she'd always been nice to him, except for a couple of interrogations. "Well, if Buffy asks, you can tell her that I am," he said uncertainly.

The girl's head snapped up, suddenly worried. "Tell her? How?"

What the heck was up with her? He shrugged. "Well, you could say, 'Hey, Buffy, I ran into Jonathan today. He seemed happy…'"

Her expression softened. "Oh, Jonathan… you don't know… I-I forget sometimes, I just figure that everyone would somehow know…"

"Know? Know what?"

"Buffy's dead."

Jonathan stared, his mouth hanging open.

_The world really is ending._

* * *

_3. New Friends, Old Enemies_

Jonathan stood at the end of the hospital bed, unnoticed until he spoke.

"Hello Andrew."

Andrew nearly jumped straight out of the bed when he heard the young man's cool voice.

"Jonathan… hi…" His eyes flicked towards the door, then the window, as he fidgeted with the bed covers. "Are you… here to kill me?"

"No!" Jonathan protested, shocked and offended. "What kind of a creep do you think I am?"

"Well, I did, y'know, try to stab you." Andrew gingerly fingered the bandage that covered the wound from when Jonathan deflected the knife into Andrew's side.

"I remember," Jonathan replied darkly. "That doesn't mean I want you dead."

"Well," Andrew gulped nervously. "That's very… big hearted of you."

"Quit toadying," Jonathan snapped, losing his patience with his would-be killer/friend. "I came to tell you to get out of town. It's not safe."

Andrew's eyes grew wider than ever. "Leave? But… where will I go? What will I do? I'll be all alone!"

Jonathan shrugged, impassive.

"Can't I stay here with you and Buffy's gang?"

It was a few moments before Jonathan could do anything more than stare incredulously. "Andrew – you were a willing servant of the First Evil."

"Well, yeah… but that means I have inside information!"

Jonathan was unconvinced. "You tried to kill me."

"And it'll never, ever happen again, I promise." Andrew looked sincerely desperate. "Please Jonathan. I don't know what'll happen to me if I'm alone."

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you tried to _kill me_."

"But," Andrew changed tack, "if you don't help me I-I could again fall prey to the First and its evil yet persuasive arguments."

Jonathan appeared thoughtful.

"You can help me, Jonathan. You're in with Buffy's gang now, you're one of her people. You can convince her that I can help."

Andrew watched anxiously as his friend/former victim considered his proposal.

On the one hand, Jonathan could only shake his head in wonder at Andrew's perception of what he had learned was called the "Scooby Gang". They weren't Buffy's "people" – or her socks, for that matter – they were her friends. And the idea that Jonathan was one of them… they let him help, sure, but he was still an outsider. On the other hand, he was flattered that Andrew saw him as a Scooby already, as he hoped the actual Scoobies someday would. And Andrew _did_ have a point about having the inside scoop on the First…

Jonathan rolled his eyes and sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

_4. Perspective_

In the Summers' kitchen, Jonathan gazed at the top shelf of the cupboard where sat the mixing bowl that Willow needed. The spell was very specific – tempered glass, ¾" thick, 13 ½" in diameter. Luckily, Buffy had one, and she sent Jonathan to get it, without realizing that it would be out of his reach.

With a sigh, Jonathan climbed onto the counter.

"Are you sure that's safe?"

He glanced over his shoulder to see Amanda watching him sceptically. "I'm pretty light," he answered. "The counter's not going to break."

"I'm not talking about the counter," said Amanda as Jonathan took the bowl down.

It was heavier than he expected. Jonathan felt his centre of gravity shift upwards as he began to tilt backwards. He flailed his arms in circles, trying to keep his balance, while flinging the bowl aside. Amanda was there in a flash; she managed to catch the bowl before it hit the ground. Jonathan was not so lucky.

He yelped as he fell off the counter, crashing into Amanda and bringing her down with him. Amanda grunted as she got to her knees and set the glass bowl safely on the kitchen island. She turned to Jonathan with a look of exasperation.

"I was talking about you."

Jonathan only made muted sounds of pain in reply.

"Are you okay?"

"No," he finally managed to answer. "I hate being short," he grumbled as Amanda extended an arm to help him up.

"It can't be that bad." Amanda said as she looked him over. "Is anything broken?"

Jonathan rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't think so." He looked up at the potential Slayer. "You've obviously never been short."

"At least you don't get called bean-pole or string-bean or other bean-related things," she said consolingly.

"Well, no," he conceded. "But I still get 4-year-old nicknames."

"Anya's the only one who calls you 'munchkin'."

"Yeah." Jonathan thought bitterly of Anya. "Y'know, you'd think by now she'd stop laughing every time she said it. It was never even that funny to begin with." Amanda nodded sympathetically. Jonathan continued, "But it's not just the name calling. It's all kinds of feelings of-of physical inadequacy. Like not being able to reach the high shelves." He stared up at the shelf and sighed.

"Yeah, I guess that kind of sucks." Amanda suddenly brightened. "But, hey, at least you haven't got a freak face on top of that." It was a moment before Jonathan realized that she was referring to herself.

"You don't have a freak face."

Amanda simply gave him a look that told him to stop patronizing her.

"You don't!" he asserted. "I mean, sure, your teeth are kinda big, but your freckles are cute and you've got really pretty eyes."

Amanda blinked. Then a smile slowly spread across her face, revealing her too-big teeth, but mostly making her eyes look prettier. "Thanks," she said. Then, "You have pretty eyes too."

She wasn't merely returning the compliment. She really meant it.

Jonathan smiled back. "Thanks."

He stood there, looking into Amanda's eyes – they really were very pretty. They seemed to be getting closer. Jonathan found himself standing on his toes, as Amanda leaned down. They kissed.

* * *

_5. Pain_

When the school bus came to a halt, most of the able-bodied disembarked to get a better look at the sinkhole that was recently Sunnydale. Anya stayed on-board to tend to Jonathan, who was bleeding in a back seat. Andrew leaned over the back of the seat in front of them, watching.

"Well, it doesn't look fatal," Anya said, examining the wound in his side. "Are you in a lot of pain?"

"Actually, I'm not," Jonathan replied, surprised. In fact, he was feeling pretty buzzed. Heck, he felt like he could fight Turok'han and Bringers all day. Bring 'em on!

Anya smiled at him, misty-eyed. "Oh, you little trooper." She ruffled his hair fondly. "It's just the adrenaline. The agonizing, skull-splitting pain will set in soon." She turned to Andrew. "Take off your shirt."

Andrew started. "What?"

"Jonathan's wound needs bandaging. We usually tear up someone's clothes in a situation like this."

Andrew clutched at the garment in question. "But… I like this shirt."

Anya gave him a stern look. "Andrew, the munchkin saved my life. The least you could do is sacrifice one item of clothing."

The logic didn't make sense to Jonathan, but it seemed to work on his friend, who proceeded to do as Anya asked, talking as he did. "You _were_ really great back there, Jonathan," he enthused. "The way you ran that Bringer through just before he tried to stab Anya –" Now shirtless, Andrew put his jacket back on and zipped it up, and held his T-shirt wadded-up in his hands. "And when that other Bringer got you with its knife, but you punched him in the face, pulled out the knife yourself, then gutted him with it –" Andrew nodded appreciatively. "That was cool."

Jonathan smiled. At the time, he had been so scared he was surprised that he could even remember which way to point the knife. But looking back, through the haze of adrenaline and blood loss, it _did_ seem pretty cool.

"You're, like, a real hero," Andrew summed up.

"Of course he's a hero," Anya said impatiently. "I covered that when I said he saved my life. Now give me that shirt before he bleeds to death."

Andrew reluctantly handed over the balled-up garment.

Jonathan kept on smiling. Despite Anya's mention of his mortality, he had never felt better in his life. He _was_ a hero. A wounded victor of an epic battle. A life-saver. It put his entire life in perspective, gave him a sense of purpose and accomplishment, and a warm, glowy feeling. It was a feeling he wanted to share.

Jonathan craned his neck, looking around the bus, as Anya tore Andrew's shirt into strips. "Hey, where's Amanda?" he asked, trying to see out the back of the bus, searching the group gathered around the sinkhole for Amanda's lanky form.

Anya paused in her work. "I haven't seen her since we went in."

She shared a look with Andrew, who turned somberly to Jonathan. "I-I don't think she made it onto the bus."

That was when the pain set in.

* * *

One more chapter to come! 


	5. On a Schoolbus

_Author's Note_: Two of Jenny's Five Things were changed so that she would have more of an arc. If you haven't read the new version, doing so will result in this chapter making more sense.

If you review, I will love you forever.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Five Things That Never Happened On A School Bus.**

_Thing #1_

As the bus trundled through the darkness, Jonathan stared out the window, even though there was nothing to see.

"Hey. How're you feeling?" Andrew's voice was soft besides him.

Jonathan turned slowly, glared at Andrew for a moment before answering, "How do you think?"

He was surprised by the quaver in his voice. He thought he'd sound cold and empty. He'd been so numb for the past few hours – even the pain in his side had disappeared – he'd wondered if it was possible that he had died and simply not noticed. Then he thought that that was a stupid idea, and he was stupid and worthless and why did he live when Amanda had died? Why couldn't he die too? Now Andrew was looking at him with sympathy. It was insipid, and stupid, and why couldn't Andrew be dead instead of Amanda? Dead Andrew he could deal with. Then he was so sick with himself for wishing his friend dead that he let Andrew sit next to him and continue looking at him with his insipid, stupid sympathy.

"Pretty crappy, huh?" Andrew answered.

Jonathan looked out the window.

"I think…" Andrew began. "I think, years from now, you'll look back on this, and you won't remember the pain."

Jonathan turned to Andrew, who was staring ahead, as though he was looking into the future.

Andrew continued, "Instead, you'll remember that you had a beautiful thing with Amanda. That in the few short days you had together, you loved a lifetime's worth–"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jonathan interrupted. He felt like crying, or maybe hitting Andrew, but he couldn't summon the strength to do either. "I didn't love her." Andrew looked stunned. Jonathan went on, "I never had the chance. Maybe I could have. But I'll never find out now, will I?"

There was a long silence. Jonathan could tell Andrew was uncomfortable. He was glad.

"I'm sorry," Andrew finally said, softly.

Jonathan didn't want to look out the window anymore. He couldn't see anything except his reflection in the glass. But he turned towards it anyways.

"Just leave me alone."

Andrew left silently.

Jonathan had been left alone with a new jumble of thoughts for only a few moments, when he felt someone sit next to him.

"What do you want now?" he asked sourly.

"I know that nothing I can say will make you feel better right now -"

Jonathan turned to face Mrs. Summers, surprised at her presence and embarassed that he had snapped at her. She had always been so nice to him, and now, here she was, being nice again. He wished she wasn't; it made it harder for him to be angry at everyone else, as angry as he was with himself.

" - but I think you should know that you made her happy."

Jonathan blinked. He hadn't thought of that yet. How Amanda had felt before she... Was she thinking of him? Maybe of how they were going to celebrate after the battle, how they were planning to see the new _Matrix_ movie together. Jonathan wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"How do you know?" he asked softly.

"I know a thing or two about teenaged girls," Mrs. Summers answered kindly, "and I know that over the past few days... well, considering the circumstances, she couldn't have been happier."

With sudden, vivid clarity, Jonathan could see Amanda's smile, hear her laughter. He wished he wouldn't, but the moment the memory faded he wished he could hold on to the image forever.

Jonathan turned away from Mrs. Summers, confused.

* * *

_Thing #2_

Joyce watched Jonathan with concern, wondering if she'd done the right thing in talking to him. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he didn't seem to notice. She watched him for a moment longer before rising and walking two seats up to where Dawn was curled up on the seat, her eyes softly closed. Joyce reached down to smooth her daughter's hair, and Dawn's eyes opened.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Joyce apologized.

"'Sokay, I wasn't really sleeping anyways. It just seemed to be what all the cool kids were doing." Dawn sat up, making room for her mother to sit besides her, and gestured around the bus, where new Slayers were sprawled across the seats, passed out and snoring. "Actually, I'm not even tired. Weird."

"I don't know how you can't be." Joyce yawned. "I'm exhausted, and I was on the bus the whole time."

"Yeah, but you were looking after Ani. She's like a two-foot-tall tasmanian devil." Joyce smiled. Dawn continued, "No, I'm... excited. This is a new beginning. Anything's possible."

Joyce saw the brightness in her daughter's eyes, and she felt lighter than she had in months. "A fresh start," she remarked. She had tried that once, but this time, they might actually make it. "We can go anywhere, be anything..." Buffy might even be able to put this all behind her, now that there were hundreds of slayers. She turned to Dawn. "So, what do you want to do with that wide-open future of yours?"

Dawn answered immediately, "I think I'll be a Watcher." Joyce's face fell. "I'll have to finish school first, of course, but I can help with the rebuilding of the Council on the side. I probably won't even need much training, 'cause, hey, growing up in Sunnydale is pretty much a crash-course."

"Are-are you sure that's what you want to do, honey? You decided awfully quickly. You don't want to limit your options."

"What else could I do?" Dawn was getting worked up. "All the old traditions have been blown sky-high - literally. We have the chance to create something a hundred times better, that'll really help Slayers. Think of how many girls are out there, with no idea of what happened to them. We're more important now than ever."

"We?"

"We. Us. Think about it: we _are_ the Council now. It's our move; the ball's in our court. We'll seize the day and do whatever we want with it, make our mark, make our names feared by the underworld, and do some real good - and maybe I've been hanging out with Andrew too much - but don't you get excited just thinking about it?"

Joyce could only stare at her daughter for a moment. "Right now, I just feel kind of nauseous." Dawn's excitement changed quickly to concern. "Don't you want to do something, you know, safe? For a while, at least? Maybe be a-a doctor, or a lawyer."

"Mom, I want to fight evil, not join it's ranks." Dawn took her mother's hand. "I could do something else, but it wouldn't feel right, not after everything I've seen. I could _be_ safe, but I'd rather _be making_ the world safe."

At that moment, Dawn looked so resolved, so calm, that it was impossible to feel scared for her. All Joyce was, was proud.

Joyce gathered her daughter in a tight hug.

"You'd think by now I'd be used to the idea of my daughters fighting evil," she said, the apprehension not entirely gone from her voice.

"Summers girls save the world, mom," Dawn answered with a grin. "It's what we do."

"Can I save the world too?" came a small voice from the aisle

Joyce and Dawn turned to see Ani standing by their seat, looking hopeful.

"Of course you can," Dawn answered.

The four year-old broke into a wide grin. "Daddy always says I have to go through eighteen years of school, weapons training, and a lot of bloody tiresome bureau-see before I can help."

Dawn raised her eyebrows and nodded. "Well, maybe you should go ask him about it."

Ani shook her head. "He said I should come sit with you." She leaned in and whispered. "Daddy and mommy need to talk."

* * *

_Thing #3_

"So, what's all this about?" Jenny asked.

"I think you know."

Giles was right about that. Jenny just intended to give him a hard time. She crossed her arms and stared blankly at him, waiting for his answer.

Giles gave a long-suffering sigh. "You were supposed to stay on the bus with Ani."

"Considering how the fight went, it's a damn good thing I didn't," Jenny replied easily.

"I'm not saying your assistance wasn't helpful --"

"Strage how it sounds like it."

"-- but if anthing had happened to us, then Ani --"

"-- would have been safe on the bus with Joyce."

Giles made an effort to keep the tone of his voice down. "She would have been an orphan."

"But she wouldn't be alone," Jenny said reassuringly. "She has family who would look after her."

"She's scared of your relatives. Even more than I am."

Now it was Jenny's turn to look long-suffeing. "I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about the people on this bus."

Giles looked abashed. "Be that as it may --"

"Rupert, you can't keep shoving us off to the side because we might get hurt!"

"You _will_ get hurt hanging around, and you know it! We agreed --"

"No, _you_ _decided_ and _I_ went along with it." Giles stared, surprised. Jenny sighed, and explained, "I go where I'm told to go and do what I'm told to do. In case you haven't noticed, it's kind of my thing. But I can't keep on living like this. I can't run and hide while everyone I care about is out risking their lives. Not anymore."

Giles looked like he had had the the wind knocked out of him. Yet he continued his argument. "Anastasia --"

"-- will be surrounded by people with superpowers."

"It's still not safe."

"She's never going to be as safe as either of us want. Especially not if she's going to be a Watcher."

Giles felt himself losing ground. "I-I-I can't believe we're actually discussing this!"

Jenny was getting frustrated. "You didn't argue this hard when we came back to Sunnydale."

"That was different," he said defensively.

"How?"

"Because..." he glanced away. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. "Because I thought I might never see you again."

Jenny watched him, but he didn't meet her gaze. She knew he was ashamed for having allowed his family to be in the line of fire. They has come awfully close to losing this time. So much of what had happened had been caused by fear and panic on everyone's part, but Giles had become so adept at burying his feelings that it was easy to forget that he had been afraid as well.

Jenny moved closer, and almost reflexively, Giles put an arm around her shoulder, though he continued to avoid looking her way. She studied his face. He looked tired.

"These past couple of months were kind of nice, weren't they?" she said softly. "I mean, apart from the housing violations and the looming evil and everyone driving eachother crazy... well, I guess it hasn't been nice at all. But the part where we were together, that was good, wasn't it?"

He almost smiled. "It was..." The almost-smile quickly faded. "But I don't want to lose you, or Ani."

"You're losing us anyways," Jenny said it gently, but his expression was still deeply wounded when he turned to her. Part of him knew what she said was true. She continued, "When we got here we hadn't seen you for eight months."

"That will change." A note of desperation was creeping into his voice.

"It will because we're not going to run away anymore."

"But --"

She sat up straight, drawing away from him. The discussion had gone on long enough. "It's not your decision. Rupert, Ani belongs with her family. With you. And I don't want to be anywhere else. From now on, we stick together."

Jenny watched as his resolve melted, to be replaced by a look of resignation. Giles closed his eyes and nodded. Anyone looking at him would have thought that the battle of Sunnydale had not been won.

Jenny was relieved. She slid a hand along his shoulder to play with hair at the nape of his neck. He glanced up at her.

"We'll make this work, you'll see."

He gave a wan smile. "It will be nice, not to miss you anymore."

"Mm hm." Jenny tried to remember when the last time had been that they had a moment to themselves, when she has last been able to look into his eyes like this. She found she couldn't recall. "Try not to worry too much, okay? We won."

He nodded. "After this, I think we all deserve a good long break from apocalypses."

"Mm... although, there is at least one good thing about them."

Giles looked at he askance. "And what exactly would that be?"

Jenny leaned in and whispered the answer in his ear. His eyebrows shot up.

"Oh. Well..." Jenny pulled back, grinning. "Th-that is, um..."

Giles saw Jenny smiling at him, and his stammering ceased. He just looked at her -- to Jenny, it seemed like forever since he had looked at her that way. A moment later, they were kissing.

* * *

_Thing #4_

Now Jesse knew why bus drivers were always in such bad moods. From the front of the bus you could hear most of what was said, and the rear-view mirror over the windsheild let him see everything that was happening. At the moment, he was trying not to pay attention to the clear view it offered of Giles and Jenny's make-out session. Xander, leaning over the seat behind him, was also keeping his eyes glued on the road ahead. Willow, on the other hand, kept glancing up at the mirror with a sly grin.

"Think we should break things up back there?" Xander asked.

"Nah," Willow answered with a smile, "let them be for now."

"The windows had better not fog up," Jesse commented. "It's hard enough to drive this thing as it is."

"That's good," Xander said. "Driving takes focus. You're paying attention to the road, instead of the awkward, yet morbidly fascinating drama of the lives around us. Someone could make a TV show out of this."

"Who'd watch that?" Jesse asked sceptically. "Anyways, we're trying to avoid voyeurism, remember?"

"Mostly, yeah."

"It was kinda nice to hear what Jenny said, though," added Willow. The boys stared at her. "About us being family? And sticking together? I thought it was nice."

Jesse smiled. "It is a good idea. The sticking together."

Willow nodded "Been a long time since we did the BFF thing."

"Well, I think that makes us due for a reunion tour!" Xander said.

She broke into a wide grin. "Is it decided then? We go on the road, take the world by storm?"

"Sounds like a plan." Jesse smiled out the windsheild. This was good. This was the way things were supposed to be.

"Scooby World Tour, 2003: London, Rio, Cleveland."

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "Getting a bit ambitious with that itinerary, Will?"

"Not at all. I mean, there's Slayers all over the world now, right? And they all need help, or at least to be told what's going on. And who else is going to find them but us?"

Xander groaned. "It's too early to be talking about work."

"Hey, I'm just talking about getting a chance to travel, and have Giles pick up the tab."

Xander perked up. "That's right! Will, you schemer."

"Teresa always says how she'd like to see East Asia," Jesse said with a frozen expression. Really, he knew Teresa would have reservations about getting involved again, if not outright oppose it. At the same time, being with the old gang felt so natural, like Willow and Xander were a part of him. Maybe Teresa could be convinced.

Willow smiled. "Yeah, that'd be fun."

There was an awkward silence.

Or maybe Xander and Willow could take a break from the supernatural stuff. For a while, at least, so they could take some time to just be friends.

"Of course, it won't be all sun and sight-seeing," Willow continued. "I'm sure Giles is going to have lots of stuff for us to do. I've already started thinking about how to do a locator spell to find several hundered Slayers at a time, without any mistakes like what happened with Dawn."

No, Willow giving up magic would be a physical impossibility.

"Uh, Will?" Xander cut in, "You're talking about work."

"Sorry. It's just, y'know, a challenge. My brain gets all excited."

Xander sighed. "I, on the other hand, prefer not to consider the exciting life prospects tht lie before me as someone who is single, homeless, and eyeless."

"Xander, don't talk like that."

"Yeah, you're not eye-_less_, just one-eyed," Jesse said lamely. He wondered if it was a good time to tell Xander he was planning to open a second location of his autoshop, and that he was in need of a manager. The shop had done so well, so quickly. Jesse'd been surprised and pleased with its success, but now it seemed to be binding him. But he didn't _want_ to leave it either.

Willow gave Jesse a not-funny look for the one-eyed comment, and turned to Xander.

"You know how important you are to all of us. And there's a lot of good work you can do."

"Yeah, I've got madd whittling skillz."

"I mean do-gooder skillz. Giles'll make all of us Watchers if he has the chance. Even if there wasn't a critical shortage in that area."

Xander appeared heartened. Jesse wondered if he was included in Willow's statement. He wondered if he wanted to be.

Jesse shook those thoughts from his mind. "Anyways, you have at least one fantastic option ahead of you." He nodded out the windsheild: "the open road."

Willow grinned. "Reunion tour!"

Xander cracked a smile. "Sticking together."

"Being best friends," Willow nodded.

Jesse added, "forever."

* * *

_Thing #5_

Buffy had watched what was once Sunnydale get smaller, disappearing into the distance; had watched the cloud of dust hanging over the sinkhole become more and more indistinct on the horizon. She imagined Spike's ashes mixing with the remains of the town, and thought it poetic. Maybe it was just the mood she was in. Now it was too dark to see anything except the oblong patches of light from the bus' tail-lights, running along the pavement behind. It was strangely hypnotic, making Buffy feel like she was thinking of everything and nothing all at once.

Buffy blinked. How long had she been sitting there? Remembering, not remembering, letting go... It was time for a change of view.

Buffy rose from her seat and started towards the front of the bus. New Slayers were passed out in the seats, some of them snoring gently, a couple murmuring conversations. Buffy was surprised to see that Jonathan was in the seat in front of her; she hadn't noticed him at all. He was staring out the window with an empty gaze that Buffy imagined she must have worn for the past couple of hours. She considered talking to him, telling him she knew how he felt, but quickly dismissed the idea. Knowing how he felt, Buffy knew any attempt would be hopeless at that moment. But maybe later.

Buffy wondered, just when she had started to care about Jonathan anyways? Then she realized she was staring, and moved on before he noticed.

She passed Andrew and Anya, both asleep, him with his face smooshed against the window pane, her with her head on his shoulder, drooling away.

She heard Dawn's voice.

Her sister, mother, and Ani were seated together, Dawn telling the enraptured girl about the day's battle in gory detail, while her mom wore a strange look, like she would be horrified if she wasn't so exhausted.

"Was there lots of blood?" Ani asked eagerly, causing Buffy to once again stop and marvel at the weirdness of her Watcher's kid.

"Hey guys," she interrupted, sitting on the edge of the seat next to them, where a slayer was curled up, asleep.

"Hi Buffy," Joyce answered, turning to her daughter tiredly. "How're you feeling?"

"Well, so far I've been through pensive, reflective, and thoughtful. I'm about pondered-out. I guess that leaves me kinda mellow. You?"

"Tired."

"I'll bet," Buffy commented with an amused glance at Ani.

"Dawnie's telling me how she killed the Tur-rok-hans," the girl informed her, pronouncing the vampire's name with careful precision. She turned back to Dawn expectantly.

Dawn smiled, enjoying the appreciative audience. "Well, they turned to dust before they could bleed. But then these Bringers came in, and _they_ bled a _lot_ -- "

Buffy noticed the look of distress on her mother's face, which seemed to be caused by the fact that there was actually more story to tell, rather than the content. Even though she herself wanted to hear about how her sister had managed, Buffy decided that it was time to intervene.

"Tell you what: why don't we leave the rest of the story till tomorrow, when we can all gather round and listen to Dawn's feats of heroism and violence, and let Dawn get some rest."

"I'm not tired," Dawn said. Buffy gave her a stern look and nodded towards their mother. "Oh, I mean, boy am I bushed! All that fighting really wears you out."

Ani looked disappointed.

Buffy really wanted to talk to her mother -- it had been such a long time since they'd last had a real discussion -- but that would have to wait as well.

"I'm just gonna go see how the guys are doing," Buffy said, indicating the front of the bus where her friends sat. She rose to her feet. "Talk to you in the morning?"

Joyce nodded, smiling gratefully.

"G'night, then." Buffy kissed Dawn on the head, and held her hand out to Ani. "C'mon, let's get you back to mommy and daddy."

The child slid off the seat reluctantly, protesting, "They had something important to discuss."

A few seats up, Giles and Jenny were making the most of the moment of calm and reletive privacy, due to the unconscious state of those around them.

"Ew!" Ani cried, loud enough to wake Faith, who was sleeping across the aisle. She sprang into battle position, before realizing where she was.

"What happened?" Faith asked groggily, looking to Buffy, and then Giles and Jenny, who were now sitting rather awkwardly.

"Mommy and Daddy were kissing!" Ani told her.

Giles turned red. Jenny stared at the roof. Buffy thought she could hear some muffled snickers from the front of the bus.

"'Sthat all?" Faith sat back down, shoved Robin, who was still deep asleep, against the side of the bus so that he took up as little room as possible, and went back to sleep.

Buffy turned back to Giles and Jenny. "Sorry to interrupt your 'discussion'," she said, "but your kid's keeping my mom up with her constant demand for horror stories."

Jenny smiled fondly as her daughter clambered onto her lap. Giles continued to look mildly embarrassed.

"By the way," Buffy added, "I think you might need to explain the concept of 'horror' to her. Especially the part about being horrified."

"Unless something in the story poses an actual threat, there's no reason for her to be scared," Giles explained. "Her responses are far more rational than those of most children, and of a large proportion of adults, for that matter."

Ani beamed, as if taking her father's words as a great compliment.

Buffy raised her eyebrows, and shifted her gaze to Jenny, who merely shrugged, as if to say, "what ya gonna do?"

As had happened in the past, Buffy was unsure as to whether Giles, Jenny and Anastasia were a light at the end of the tunnel, or a cautionary tale about what happened when Scoobies did the family thing. She decided not to think about it too much. They looked happy together at any rate, which was nice. Buffy smiled and nodded.

She moved to the front of the bus, squeezing in with Xander and Willow in the seat behind Jesse. "Hey guys." Jesse yawned. "How're you holding up with the driving? Tired?"

"You offering to take over?"

Buffy shrugged. "Guess so."

Jesse immediately straightened his posture and made an effort to look alert. "In that case, I'm bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."

The Slayer glared.

"We'll be in town soon anyways, and then it won't be far to my place, so I might as well stay at the wheel," he added hastily.

She seemed appeased. "Ah, so that's where we're going. Your place?"

"For now, anyways," Jesse answered mysteriously.

Buffy looked at him inquisitively.

Jesse turned to Willow, "Tell her about the plan."

"Plan?" Buffy was confused. "Why are we planning? I thought we were plan-free?"

Willow grinned. "We're going on a reunion tour!"

"What?"

"The four of us," Xander explained, "reunited, travelling around the world --"

"-- courtesy of the unsuspecting Watcher's Council --" Jesse cut in.

"-- i.e. Giles --" said Xander.

Willow continued, "-- finding Slayers, fighting evil --"

"-- but most of all, sticking together --" Xander interupted.

"-- being friends --" Jesse added.

"-- family," Willow corrected.

"Family."

The three of them turned towards Buffy.

"So, whatd'ya think?"

Buffy smiled. "I think that's the best plan I've heard in a long time."

She turned to look out the windsheild at the view ahead, the road clear before them, the lights of the city twinkling, getting ever-closer.

**THE END**


End file.
